


Dissociative

by ladyoneill



Series: Lady O's Teen Wolf Bingo Stories [32]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Confusion, Dissociation, Gen, Hale Family Feels, Memory Loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-27
Updated: 2014-02-27
Packaged: 2018-01-13 22:44:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1243300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyoneill/pseuds/ladyoneill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mind shattered, Peter lives in the past, but sometimes he sees reality and all it does is confuse him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dissociative

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this was supposed to be written for the February challenge at HC bingo except somehow I missed that all four prompts have to be in one fic, so...Dunno if I'll get that done since two of the others are done except for edits and the fourth is nearly done and they really don't combine well and I'm running out of time and I'm sick. *sigh* So, here, have Peter! Does fit the Trope Bingo prompt "amnesia".

Most of the time Peter lives in the past. After his second attempt at becoming an Alpha failed spectacularly, he was left with a shattered mind. His memories of the past year are gone or at least inaccessible. Whatever he might have remembered from the years in a catatonic state are also gone.

From before the fire he also doesn't remember, everything is clear. Every joy, every sorrow, every pain, every lover and family member and pack mate, all so fresh and alive. 

The problem is that most of the time he can't remember that he's forgotten nearly seven years. He looks at Derek and sees him at sixteen. Looks at the others in this new pack and doesn't know them, no matter how many times he's told their names. The Sheriff, who seems to know about werewolves--something else Peter has to be reminded of--is a Deputy raising a precocious ten year old. 

The house is whole, standing, painted white with ivy creeping up the two chimneys.

Any minute, Talia will walk down the main staircase to scold him about something.

Standing in the living room, Peter doesn't see the burned wreck, the rotting furniture, the holes in the walls and floor. He sees the paintings he found in private collections all over the world hanging on the walls, the grand piano that his mother still plays every day sitting in a corner flooded with sunlight, the plants gracing the entryway and the hundred year old blue Persian runner on the stairs.

And then, as it does sometimes, there's clarity and everything fades to darkness and ruin and he remembers that seven years are gone.

Everyone is gone.

Laura...

Derek told him he killed her to become Alpha, that in his madness he lured her here and tore out her throat, that hunters then cut her in half. (There's a spell, you see, a ritual to bring a wolf back to life, and there was a plan, but they cut her in half and ruined it. Peter touches his own throat, for a moment feels flames licking his skin, and almost remembers...but never truly.)

Peter has no real memories of any of this but for a moment he remembers being told of his crimes, the horrors he inflicted on his family, his town, and he falls to his knees, howling in grief and shock.

How can anyone forgive him?

How can he forgive himself?

Everything fades again and he wonders why he's kneeling on the floor next to the navy brocade Regency sofa his great-great-great-something grandmother imported from England nearly two hundred years before.

As he rises to his feet, Derek comes in the house, concern on his face. "Peter?"

"Derek. How was school? Is there a basketball game coming up? You know I'll be there. Anything to support a true sport and not that silly lacrosse that's becoming popular."

"Peter, it's starting to rain."

Frowning, he lifts a hand to his cheek and his fingers come away wet. For an instant he feels a cold wind and rain dripping on his head through the gaping hole in the roof, but then he shrugs. "Let's build a fire then."

Derek comes closer, carefully takes his arm. "Peter, this isn't home anymore. Let me take you home."

"What?" He tries to shake off his nephew but...when did he get so strong, and... "You need to shave." No, that's wrong. Derek never gets that much stubble, not yet, not even if a week goes by. "Derek?"

Confused, he allows himself to be led out to the front porch and it is raining, cold and gray. Everything's gray--the trees barren of leaves, the sky darkening, the house...

"There was a fire," he murmurs. "It ruined everything."

"Yes," Derek confirms and leads him to an SUV that Peter doesn't recognize, but, still very confused he lets his nephew place him in the passenger seat and watch as he affixes his seatbelt.

"Where are we going?" he asks when Derek slides behind the wheel.

"Home, Peter."

As they drive away, Peter looks over his shoulder at the white house bathed in sunshine, and frowns in confusion.

End


End file.
